


Supplement #1: The Spanking

by sonata_de_morte



Series: The Adventures of a Pureblood Slut [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Dirty Talk, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonata_de_morte/pseuds/sonata_de_morte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco had just enough time to hear something get swung through the air before pain exploded along the curve of his arse. From the feel of it, Harry had just hit him with the wooden hairbrush that Draco kept in Harry’s bathroom for when he slept over, the flat back of it smacking into his pale flesh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supplement #1: The Spanking

**Author's Note:**

> So, the plotty part of this series is done, but that doesn't mean there isn't room for more smut. I'll be adding supplements to the series when the mood strikes, or when people request certain things.

Draco really, really liked Harry’s cock.

He was pretty damned fond of cock in general, but there was something about Harry’s that managed to make him forget about all the other cocks he had had in his time. And he’d had a lot of cock. With his penchant for going to Blaise Zabini’s club on Friday nights and letting any number of men fuck him until his arse was open and sloppy, it was safe to say that Draco Malfoy had sampled a choice variety of cock.

But Harry’s was different. It wasn’t the biggest he had ever had, but it was lovely and thick and it filled him quite nicely each and every time.

In truth, Draco just liked Harry. They had been together for a few months now, and it was comfortable and nice, and everything Draco would never admit that he wanted. Of course, all of the cuddling and lunches and dinners together were bookended by bouts of incredible sex, so Draco felt no need to go anywhere most of the time. Harry understood him and didn’t try to make him give up the things he liked to do, and Draco didn’t mind (read: actually enjoyed) indulging Harry’s need for affection and wallowing about in the afterglow.

Draco even liked Harry when he was in a mood, like he was now.

Apparently something or other had gone wrong in the Auror department, and from the discontent mumbles he’d been able to get out of Harry, Draco knew that someone was an idiot, and that whatever had happened, it had fallen to Harry to fix it. That was typical enough. If there’s a problem, call the Savior in to make it better. Draco knew enough about Harry by now to know that the Ministry’s blind faith in his abilities to put everything right again, disturbed him something awful.

Obviously Harry didn’t want to talk about it, and Draco was no good at that sort of thing anyway, so he fell back on the skills that he did have.

The two of them were at Harry’s house, and Draco had dinner in the oven, roast chicken and potatoes, so they had a little time. Harry was sitting on the couch in his sitting room, the same couch that he’d fucked Draco over plenty of times, and he was staring blankly at the flames in the fire place. Draco decided he wanted that attention on him.

He walked over to Harry and stood in front of him, waited until those green eyes were focused on him, and then dropped gracefully to his knees between Harry’s legs. His own eyes practically glowed with intent, and his fingers were at Harry’s belt and fly in seconds, working them open and reaching in to pull out Harry’s cock.

Experience taught him that Harry never wore pants under his usual denims, and Draco had grown to like that, too. It certainly made this easier and before Harry could even speak, Draco was leaning forward and taking the tip of Harry’s cock in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and sucking lightly.

He loved playing with Harry’s cock like this: when it was soft and pliable, and he could fit more of it in his mouth. The startled moan that he got in response spurred him on, and he took more, licking and sucking and smiling as he felt the flesh hardening against his tongue.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, and Draco gave him a look that pretty clearly illustrated what he thought of that question. Harry snorted. “Okay. _Why_ are you doing it?”

Draco sighed and pulled off of his cock with a wet pop, giving him another look. “Because you’re in a bad mood, and it’s annoying,” he said, even though there was more fondness than exasperation in his tone. “Now, we can continue this conversation, or I can keep sucking your cock. The choice is yours.”

Harry looked at him contemplatively for a moment, and Draco rolled his eyes. What was there to contemplate about getting your cock sucked? It seemed like an easy enough decision to him.

“What if I want something else?” Harry asked, then. “Something to…work off some of this stress?”

Draco arched an eyebrow. “Well, usually I am up for your patented form of stress relief, but there’s dinner in the oven, and we tend to get carried away once your cock is in my arse.” And that was certainly true. They had both been late for work numerous times over the months they had been together because it was just so hard to separate once they got going.

Harry smiled for the first time since Draco had arrived and leaned forward to kiss him firmly. “You’re right about that, but I was actually thinking about something else.”

“Something else?” Draco asked, frowning. He didn’t know what else…oh. He made a face. “Really? Now?”

Harry nodded, blinking in what Draco could only assume was supposed to be an innocent and convincing fashion. “It will make me feel better, I promise. Then I won’t be in a mood, and after dinner we can get carried away all over the house.”

That sounded promising, and Draco did want Harry to feel better, so he sighed and nodded, getting to his feet. “Where do you want me?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy Harry’s other method of stress relief, because he actually did. It was just that Harry was heavy handed, and it tended to make for uncomfortable days at work or dinners with his mother. And there were only so many times Draco could take his mother asking him why he was fidgeting in his chair before his cheeks were permanently red.

But the grin he got in response to his question was enough to make up for any potential embarrassment down the line, so he just rolled his eyes and waited for Harry to decide.

“Over the kitchen table, I think,” Harry said finally.

“Why there?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. So you can keep an eye on the chicken at the same time?”

Draco made a face at him, but walked into the kitchen anyway. It was smaller than his own kitchen, but he was used to it by now, and he sighed, moving the chairs out of the way so that he could bend over the kitchen table, legs spread and feet planted, his arms stretched out ahead of him like Harry preferred.

He quirked a smile at the intake of breath he heard behind him, and pushed back into the hands that were suddenly on him, stroking down his back to his arse, cupping and squeezing. “Fuck, Draco,” Harry said, voice low and reverent. “You have the most incredible arse I have ever seen. Do you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” Draco replied, giving said arse a little wiggle. “By many people.”

Harry grunted and slapped Draco’s covered arse, driving a low moan from him. “Screw the other people.”

Draco smiled, knowing just how to push Harry’s buttons. “I did,” he said, keeping his voice light. If they were going to do this, they might as well do it properly.

Harry growled and slapped his arse again, the sound ringing out in the kitchen. “Draco,” he said warningly. Harry wasn’t always possessive, but Draco knew that when they were together like this, he preferred it if Draco didn’t bring up the other men who got to fuck him. They didn’t mean anything to him, and Draco knew that Harry knew that. Most of the time he never even knew who was fucking him, after all. But bringing it up was the perfect way to get Harry to tap into that hard, dominant place that Draco had decided he liked.

So he kept talking. “Actually, I suppose I let them screw me.”

The response was a slow exhale and a murmured spell. Draco wasn’t sure what Harry had just summoned, but he didn’t have long to wait to find out. A rush of warm air made him realize that Harry had spelled his clothing away, and those hands were on his bare arse, then, groping roughly.

Draco moaned and pushed back into it, his fingers curling lightly into fists against the smooth wood of the table.

Before he could get too into it, though, Harry pulled his hands back. Draco had just enough time to hear something get swung through the air before pain exploded along the curve of his arse. From the feel of it, Harry had just hit him with the wooden hairbrush that Draco kept in Harry’s bathroom for when he slept over, the flat back of it smacking into his pale flesh.

“Fuck. Ow,” he hissed, squirming over the table.

“Be still,” Harry ordered, steel in his voice. “You may get to play with others sometimes, but right now you’re mine, you little whore. I’m going to make sure you remember that.”

Draco thought he was rather unlikely to forget. Especially when Harry pressed one of his hands to the small of his back, keeping him pressed down to the table, while the other hand worked the brush.

Each time it smacked into his arse, he cried out, pain flaring along the curve of his arse. Harry was hitting him rapidly, not giving him time to process each blow as they all blended together. His arse was going to be red and sore when this was done, but his cock was already getting hard where it was sandwiched between the table and his body.

The kitchen was filled with the sounds of the brush smacking against his skin, and the cries and whimpers he was managing to get out.

Harry’s breathing was becoming ragged, and Draco was panting himself. “You always try to pretend like you don’t like this,” Harry said, slowing down the swats and making sure Draco felt each one. “But I know you do.” SMACK.

“You’re probably already hard from this, aren’t you?”

SMACK.

“Little slut.”

SMACK. SMACK.

“You should be spanked all the time for being so fucking filthy.”

SMACK.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

SMACK.

For his part, Draco was unable to respond to any of it. Harry loved to talk dirty to him when they were doing things like this, and it all just added to the sensations. His arse _hurt,_ lines of pain like fire spreading through him. At this rate, he was definitely going to have bruises to show for it. His cock was leaking against the table, and he wanted to work a hand down and stroke himself, especially with the way Harry was talking. Tears were rolling down his face, but he didn’t want it to stop. Not until Harry had what he needed.

“Look at you, trying to hump the table,” Harry said breathlessly, and Draco realized that he was moving his hips. The table wasn’t the most comfortable thing to rub himself against, but the friction was better than nothing, and he moaned desperately.

“Always trying to get off on something,” Harry said, spanking Draco a few times in rapid succession. “Come,” he ordered. “Come from just this.”

Draco whined, but he was nearly there. The pain was blending into pleasure, and there was a clatter as Harry dropped the brush and began rubbing his hands all over Draco’s hot, sore arse. “Harry,” he gasped, pressing back. “Touch me.”

“No,” Harry replied. “If you can’t get off like this, then I guess you won’t be getting off.” One of the hands left his skin, and Draco could hear the sound of Harry stroking himself behind him, moaning as he closed in on his own orgasm.

Determined not to be left wanting, Draco bit his lip and worked his hips, rubbing against the table and pushing against Harry’s hand, wincing when those fingers bit into his arse. “Close,” he panted.

“That’s it, Draco. Just like that. Come for me.”

“Ah!” One of Harry’s fingers slipped between the cheeks of his arse and brushed his hole, and Draco shoved his hips forward, pleasure erupting under his skin. He cried out and whimpered as he shook with his orgasm, the pain and pleasure and slight discomfort of his position all rolling together and taking him neatly over the edge.

Harry echoed his cry, and Draco felt the warm splashes that indicated that Harry had just come all over his arse. He could only imagine what he looked like, his arse red and bruising and now covered with come.

He tried to push himself up with wobbly arms, but Harry got there first, pulling him up and turning him around to kiss him deeply. Draco let him, melting a little bit into the kiss. When he pulled back to breathe, he could see that the upset look was gone from Harry’s face, replaced by lazy satisfaction.

The oven timer went off then, and it jarred Draco out of his post orgasmic haze. His arse hurt, he was sticky, and the table was stained with his come, but all he could do was shake his head and laugh softly.

Harry chuckled and patted Draco fondly on the arse. “You go get cleaned up, and I’ll take care of things in here,” he said, grinning. “Then we’ll eat.”

“I’m still holding you to that bit about getting carried away after dinner,” Draco said, picking up his brush and clothes and heading for the stairs. “Especially after what I just let you do to my poor arse.”

He could hear Harry laughing as he moved towards the bathroom. “You liked it!”

“Beside the point!” Draco winced as he wiped a wet cloth over his arse, getting a good look at just how red it was in the mirror. “Brute,” he muttered under his breath, though he was smiling. “You owe me big time.”


End file.
